


We need more towels ... or maybe our own place

by cinderellasleftshoe



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arrow AU, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Moira does not approve, Season/Series 02, Threesome - F/F/M, Trope getting caught, We are not calling it that, author thinks she is funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasleftshoe/pseuds/cinderellasleftshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of silly, smut-fluff about bad timing, naughty sports, getting caught, a shortage of towels, remembering to lock doors, Thea is hilarious, and incentives for getting your own lease like a grown-assed adult. Takes place along the series 02 timeline, but is AU and is obvi not canon. Sara, Felicity and Oliver have hooked up a few times. But it wasn't a Thing. It might be a Thing now.</p><p>This is my first fanfic, like ever. I've been a reader and commenter for a good while, but I've never written my own. So yeah, this mess is all on me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sara stepped out of Oliver's en suite shower and grabbed the heavy, white, Turkish cotton bath sheet from the warming bar and wrapped it several times around her lean frame. She plucked a smaller white towel from the spa rack above the towel warmer and used it to twist up her long, wet waves. Felicity was also standing in the expansive bathroom with the same luscious towels wrapped around her body and hair. Felicity had an additional hand towel she was using to blot water from her face after her oil cleanse and foaming, low ph cleanse (skincare is key!) From the sun spilling in through the windows, it was well into morning. Slipping back to the Queen Manor after the club last night had seemed like a fabulous ( ** _fabulous_** ) idea, since Moira and Thea were on a business trip to Central City with Walter and they wouldn't be back until Monday. Which was probably a good thing because she's pretty sure her boyshorts are hanging from a stairwell bannister, and one of her boots is almost surely in the kitchen. Or maybe the panties were in the kitchen and the boot was on the stairwell? It wasn't at all clear at where her things landed. She'd been playing a game of chase through the ground floor with Oliver, with Felicity squealing and keeping score while squirting anyone who got close enough to her with canned whipped cream.  Every time Oliver tagged Sara, he yanked off a piece of her clothing. To her credit though, she caught him more than he caught her, and he was nearly naked, and almost entirely covered in whipped cream, when the three of them, breathlessly and giddy with grown up games, had landed hard in bed last night. 

"Pass me the acid toner," Felicity mumbled through the towel she was using to blot her face. Sara fished through Felicity's small cosmetics bag that she always carried in her purse, found the licorice-smelling watery stuff in the grey bottle, and passed it to Felicity along with couple of cotton pads from the jar on the counter. Oliver continued to sing off-key in the shower: "I wish that I was Jessie's girl..." Sara and Felicity exchanged a look. Felicity passed Sara the soothing camel milk moisturizer for the scruff burn she had developed along her jawline. An assassin with sensitive skin. Sara contains multitudes.

"Thanks for helping me wash all the stiff whipped cream from my hair," Sara said with a smile at Felicity's reflection in the mirror the women were sharing. Felicity winked and replied, "You're pretty good at Adult Quidditch." 

  
"We are NOT calling it that!" yelled Oliver from the shower.

"We are SO calling it that" stage-whispered Sara.

Sara shuffled through the cabinet and found a bottle of Lavanila Ginger-Vanilla deodorant she'd stashed there a few weeks ago. She applied it and then passed it to Felicity who sniffed it, and rubbed it to her own underarms. She turned to Sara, "want to get out of this steamy room and go braid each others' hair?" 

Sara wagged her eyebrows in response, "can we play dress up too?"  
"Only if I get to wear Oliver's boxers," Felicity replied. "Those are way comfier than the thong I was wearing last night."

"It was hot though."  
  
"If by hot, you mean sweaty."

"Don't know how you could tell the difference once the sweating got started."

Another suggestive smile exchange in the mirror. Felicity passed Sara the tinted pink lip balm made with 100% organic superfoods and bee goo. Or something. (skincare!) Sara smeared it on her lips, rubbed her lips together in the mirror, grabbed her phone from the counter and leaned in to Felicity to snap a quick selfie. "That is SO going on the Arrowgram!"  
  
"We are NOT calling it that!" yelled Oliver from the shower.  
  
And then a half tone flat, "Why can't I find a woman like that!?"    
  
Felicity dropped her snail essence bottle back into her cosmetics bag, grabbed Sara's hand and hauled her out of the bathroom to the relative safety of the couch beneath the bay window in Oliver's room.  
  
Oliver finished rinsing off the coconut oil, fair trade shower smoothie (where had that come from?) and turned off the water. His skin certainly felt soft and moisturized. He stepped out of the shower to reach for a towel, just to realize the only semblance of a towel in the entire bathroom was a small washcloth by the sink that smelled lightly of citrus and roses. What? Had they left him no towels?  
  
"Sara!" Oliver yelled from the shower. "You used all the towels."  
"Correction," she replied, "I used half of the towels."  
"Sara!"  
"Oliver!"  
Felicity giggled and pulled the hot pink and purple tangle-teaser through Sara's damp, beachy waves. She stood and pitched the small, soaking wet towel from Sara's hair into the bathroom at Oliver's feet. "Have a towel!"  
  
He looked at the towel dubiously, and then he texted Raisa: "I'm out of bath towels, could you please leave some by my bedroom door?"  
Raisa texted back: "Doing it now, Mr Oliver."  
  
He then picked up the small, wet towel, wrung it out over the sink, and then slung it artlessly around his hips. The two corners of the towel barely met at his left side. Glancing through the girl accoutrement on the counter, he plucked with his thumb and forefinger a bright pink, plastic hair clamp, and used it to clamp the two ends of the towel together. Problem sort-of-solved.  
  
Oliver straightened his posture, and strode shamelessly out the bathroom door into the bedroom proper. Sara and Felicity snickered. The site of the two of them, damp and glowing in the light from his window, stunned him. Droplets of water played across their bare shoulders, their hair hung in loose wet strands, and they sat close together with a kind of female intimacy he so admired and that, for him, was so unattainable. He could never be for them what they were to each other. But he could at least get as dry as they were.  
  
Oliver crossed his bedroom to open the door for the towels, but stepped back in surprise as Moira pushed the door open and entered, her arms loaded with towels. "Oliver! Are you staying for lunch because ...?" Moira paused mid-question to take in the tableau. Her eyes focused narrowly on Sara who was sitting still wrapped in a towel, between Felicity's legs and leaning back against Felicity's chest. Moira's gaze slid slowly over Felicity, whose arm was paused in the process of combing Sara's hair. Moira finally settled on her son, well rather, on the pink hair clamp holding his towel over his modesty. She scowled and began, "Oliver..."  
  
Sara and Felicity had been stunned by the arrival of the Queen matron whose gaze had the ability to freeze them in place. But now that she was focused on Oliver, the two women sprang up to bolt for the bathroom, the closet, under the bed, wherever. Those options passed silently between them as they clasped hands and stared into each others' eyes. Bathroom. Definitely bathroom. Sara began to pull Felicity toward the bathroom door, one hand firmly securing her towel, but just then, Thea bounced into the room.  
  
"Ollie! You'll never guess who I saw in Central City! It was ..." and then everyone froze in place again as Thea took in the scene: a very disheveled bed, two lace bras flung over the footboard, a black combat boot sticking out from beneath the bed, two soggy, blonde women in towels, and her brother ... wearing a handtowel and a hairclamp? "Cool! Slumber party, Ollie!"

"Speedy!" Oliver snapped.

"Oliver!" Mrs Queen snapped.

"Moira!" Walter called from the hallway, and then, of course, Walter stepped into the bedroom. Which was quite cozy now with two mortified girlfriends, a hostile mom, a belligerent boyfriend, an entertained baby sister, and a stepfather with a posh Cambridgeshire accent, "Oliver!"  
  
"Oliver, I dont know what you've got going on here..." began Mrs Queen.  
  
"Mom, it's fine. We were playing tag football by the pond, we got muddy, we took showers, we ran out of towels, end of story."  
  
At just that moment, Raisa entered the bedroom with a laundry basket filled with a pair of men's jeans, a black combat boot, a white linen man's shirt, a pink pair of boyshorts, a red thong, and a plaid schoolgirl skirt. 

The Queens and Walter all stared at her.  
  
"Would you believe 'strip tag football'?" Asked Oliver.

"Nice whisker burn, Sara!" laughed Thea, pointing to an exposed section of Sara's thigh. "Did you get that while making a touchdown?"  
  
"Thea!" shouted everyone.  
  
  
fin.

 

 


	2. We might be in a Threelationship ... we are NOT calling it that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evidence is mounting that our heroes might have a Thing.

Oliver grabbed the basket from Raisa, set it on the very messy bed, and then rushed almost everyone out of his room. Thea was the last to be rounded up:

"You've got girlfriends!" she squeed.

"They're not my girlfriends!"

"I've got sisters!"

"They're not your sisters!"

"Ollie, you're not robbing me of my new sisters! Shopping! Brunches! Girls Night!"

"Speedy! There will absolutely be no Girls Night! This was a one time thing. We were just blowing off some steam."

"Oh no you don't, Oliver!"

Oliver sighed, took a deep breath, counted to three, and lowered his voice to a conversational tone, "Don't I what, Speedy?"

"Don't you try to tell me that you don't have a Thing with Sara and the other pretty one from your office."

"I don't have a Thing with ... her name is Felicity. I don't have a thing with Sara and Felicity."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

"Because you bought that jar of jasmine-scented, whipped argan oil on your dresser for yourself?"

"What?" Oliver glanced at the dresser to see the glass jar he hadn't noticed before sitting on the dresser. 

"And I suppose that Mason Pearson boar bristle brush next to it is because you are so concerned about the health of your manly buzzcut?"

"What?" Oliver's gaze landed on the glossy-handled brush placed next to the jar.

"I'm just saying, Thing. A Threelationship!" 

"A what!?" 

"A Threelationship! You and Sara and Felicity! Three! A Threelationship! I'm so excited!" 

"Thea! I am not in a Threelationship! ... I am NOT calling it that!" 

"Whatevs, big brother! But this is definitely a Thing! A ThreeThing." Thea raised her voice to be heard in the bathroom, "Brunch with my new sisters is at noon on Sunday at that place with the green and white awnings and the awesome Bloody Mary bar on Main Street!"

"Whatever, Thea," Oliver huffed with exasperation as he shoved his sister out the door and closed it quickly behind her. He threw the lock. Then, just because, he hauled the heavy wood desk chair over and braced it beneath the doorknob. For reasons. Then he stepped to the dresser and picked up the hairbrush. It was heavy in his hand. "You can come out now," he said in the direction of the bathroom door.

When the bathroom door opened, but Sara and Felicity didn't step out, Oliver replaced the brush on his dresser and walked to the bathroom door. He knocked on the door jam, "Can I come in?" he asked.

"Ah, sure," squeaked Felicity.

Oliver stepped into the bathroom to find both women still wrapped in their towels and staring at the counter top. On it was arranged the Lavanila deodorant, the jar of coconut oil shower smoothie, a box of tampons, three toothbrushes, contact lens cleaner and case, four tubes of organic, fruity lip balm, a pink razor, and an assortment of hair ties. "Ollie?" Sara asked. "How many times have we hooked up here?"

"Two or three?"

"Or five or six," replied Felicity opening the contact lens case, dumping out the fluid, rinsing it, and setting it open to dry on the still citrus and rose-scented damp washcloth.

"OK, maybe six or so..." said Oliver slowly. "I like that coconut stuff."

"I brought that," said Sara, "like, last month, I think? When we got drunk and decided you would shave our legs because you kept claiming to be a leg man."

"Uh, I AM a leg man."

"Ass man" coughed Felicity.

"Whatever," said Sara, I don't remember buying the pink razor though.

"You didn't," said Felicity. It was in my cosmetic bag for emergencies. "I wondered where it had gone. And I'm missing my emergency hair brush too."

"I think it's on my dresser," said Oliver, fingers turning all the lip balms so their labels faced up. "Blueberry Bliss?"

"Ollie," Sara said, retrieving her pink hair clamp that was holding Oliver's towel around his hips. "Er, we may be having a Threelationship here."

"We are NOT calling it that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of first fan fic. Thanks for reading. I welcome feedback.


End file.
